Spirit and Power
by ShardborneMaiden
Summary: The Labyrinth has stolen Sarah's imagination and happiness, so she settles a bargain with its king: her life in exchange for their return. But Sarah is unsettled by this new, frightening Labyrinth and her growing, tentative trust of the murderous king who claims to love her is to be tested ten-fold by the curse of his centuries of cruel solitude.
1. As if in Blood

Disclaimer: Labyrinth is not mine. I do not claim it to be.

* * *

Something was missing from my life, something so important that its loss was a gaping hole in the fabric of myself.

This hole had started small. In fell the odd lost treasure, a photo, or a memento magnet, perhaps I would lose a precious necklace or have to ask the teacher for a spare copy of the core text because, from my locker, my original copy had vanished, leaving behind a swampy smell I knew was for my nose only. Then the void grew bigger, produced more tears of frustration, brought new trauma in its wake. I would be awarded several sub-grades less than what I had studied for on my finals and every night, without fail, I would miss the last bus and have to walk the long way home. Worst of all, in my head, a mocking voice, _his voice_, whenever I would lock eyes with the boys I would lend small, shy smiles to, telling me every evil thing they had ever done, every despicable thing they thought of doing. What they wanted to do to me. Little things would remind me of the debt he believed he was owed, little, coarse, hard to swallow reminders of just how cruel he could be and just how resilient I was. And yet on I drove. On he drove me. Sometimes I would sit down and try to write down my thoughts, try to order myself and would come up blank, rip the sheets in frustration and pull my hair so hard that tears would bud in my eyes. I knew it was him. I knew he had done this. I would sit in a councillor's office or in Karen's arms and say: 'It's not my fault. You don't understand, none of this is my doing. I want to be happy. I promise'.

Because I did. So badly. But how could I? A mental blockade sectioned off the joy I should have felt when I received the acceptance letter to my favoured college, told me I was undeserving when the chance to befriend the petite redhead across the road arose, or even tutted when I discovered a new album with beautiful music, something so precious yet so simple. Throwing away the book did not help, burning it didn't either and it felt traitorous. How could I want him out of my head, how could I want to destroy him when there was nothing else but him? I yearned for him, whether by my will or his, I no longer knew, I could no longer separate the two.

On the night of my eighteenth birthday, he had sprung upon me a solution to my misery, a get-out clause. I had been curled beneath my blankets and pillows, my fingers clutching at them as I howled again and again into their softness, perhaps I had argued with Karen, my mind was hazy. I don't recall. I felt his weight on the bed beside me and the curling of his leather encased fingers around the upper arm I had scratched raw. I knew it was him before he spoke.

'How awful is this, Sarah? How utterly monotonous your life is without my Labyrinth' he had purred.

His cold leather-encased fingers traced my spine, slowly, thoroughly as I stared into the darkness of my pillows. He uttered my name in various tones of disapproval as his fingers sought out the gaps between my ribs, resting there.

'You've been marring yourself, Sarah' he said, his voice practically cracking with his anger.

I tried to thrust myself away but found my fingers encased in his, chilled from his flight in the late-autumn air.

'You've taken it' I accused blindly, desperately, balling my fists in his as I stared into my sheets. I would not look at him.

'And there I was thinking I stole only from the _innocent_' he said, his voice taking on an air of musing unbefitting to his threatening demure.

'I don't know what it is. But you have taken it...' I told him.

'I shall humour you, Sarah, as I have many times before...and ask you exactly what you think is missing?'

I imagined that smile, curling at the ends. I knew he was enjoying this, he must have known I had no choice but to let him.

'It is not my dreams, Goblin King, for how cliché would that be?' I whispered.

'No' he agreed. 'Though they would be a prize beyond compare. Tell me, Sarah. What got you through my labyrinth?'

'My brother' I said immediately. Of course it was Toby, the fear of losing a part of my family, a part of me, to my own foolishness was a worse fate than death. Returning to a house empty of joy, to a woman with a son lost to a fantastical being she wouldn't even believe in, to spending the rest of my life trying to get that child back, an endless labyrinth. I sat up and risked a glance at him. He seemed satisfied by my gaze, perhaps he had wanted to see my tears for himself. He was dressed simply, white shirt, black tights, no attempt at intimidation, though his frightening appearance had never once overrode those awful, beautiful eyes in the fear stakes. They regarded me coldly as I fingered at my oversized shirt, wishing it were larger.

'Initially, yes' he ground out, hooking the leg of my rocking chair with one foot and pulling it beneath him. The only thing in proximity that vaguely resembled a throne. 'But did you think of the babe whilst trumping me, whilst enlisting the help of my subjects...?'

No, I thought to myself. I thought of selfish gain, adventure, romance...and eventually my love of the little boy who would soon grow to be the most important thing in my life. My mistake had always been simple, I had assumed the Labyrinth was a mere lesson for me, to prove how much I loved Toby, to prove the person I was. It wasn't. Nothing in life is personalised. Least of all sentient mazes overseen by poufy-haired goblin monarchs.

'Always. You shouldn't let your guard down around anyone, they tend to run circles around you, to _defeat you_ as I'm sure you know' I replied.

If this had wounded him in anyway, it didn't show, he merely cocked an eyebrow at my words. I grinned at him brazenly, suddenly fearless, not caring if he destroyed me on the spot, but somehow knowing he wouldn't. It was sickeningly intoxicating seeing him this close up, dizzying, even. It wasn't a romantic thing, more a satisfaction, as though a piece of my life had been returned to me ten-fold.

'You built your entire life on my world, Sarah, and what I could do for you. The other novels, the other plays and fantasies were mere decoration, something to don when confronted by those confused by your dedication to one breed of fantasy. As for me, Sarah...You created a love for an outline of a man, a stencil, if you will, that lived and breathed only in that book. I wasn't that man. I realised this, I wanted this as you did, you understand. I wanted you, Sarah, more than you could have ever have wanted that empty vessel of a man and yet, I performed to your desires in a way you most likely deemed not to your commission, incorrect...hardly passable'

I looked away from him, from these frightening words.

'I tailored my world to your dreams and failed for my own desires and dreams for you seeped into my creation. You despise me for it. For I am not your fairy tale prince, nor the man you imagined me to be. In my educated opinion, your determination...your imagination got you through my labyrinth. You may have noticed, very recently, something like colour has been missing from your life and your imagination...gone, hmm? It wasn't me who took it, though I wish I had thought of it myself, but my labyrinth. She wanted it. And in the way of grand things, she simply snatched what she thought she was owed'

I could have spat at him. He grinned at me, clearly relishing my anger.

'You bastard' I hissed. He only tossed his head back and laughed.

'Describe the Goblin King you loved, Sarah. The goblin king you imagined' he said after a long moment. 'And in great detail'

'And prove to you, once again, that I am an imbecile. Why should I? Stop diverting and give it back!' I said.

'Sarah...I suggest you tell me' he muttered.

I wondered why it was playing out like this, why I could only answer him, why my retorts crumbled beneath him.

'He was more a prince than a king, the kinghood a mere play on 'the position of power' fantasy' I said weakly.

He smiled at that, revealing his set of unevenly pointed teeth, the sight of them sent further shivers down my spine, of the 'unnatural. Feral. Fear. Run' variety.

' He was a reluctant king' I continued, 'but he loved his subjects and they loved him. He found my love of fantasy enticing, the flush on my cheeks intriguing. I was different from the other females who threw themselves at his power. His eyes were young, lilac most probably, as all fantastical beings have eyes of that shade'

The mismatched-eyed creature before me grinned wider, amusement rendering the sharp plains of his face almost pleasant. I wondered what he would have been like when he was younger, whether his coldness was adopted, not inherent.

'More?' I asked sarcastically. He nodded, closing his eyes.

'His hair was blonde, dark enough to be mysteriously masculine but light enough to hint at his playful side. His body was muscled, lightly so, and his heart was good and true. He took me. Not my brother. We lived together for thousands of years and he granted me a life without compare.'

I slammed my eyes shut, fear of his reaction rendering me incapable of continuation. For a moment we sat there in silence, bathed in the fading light, the clock's tick the only proof he had not opted to slaughter me on the spot.

'Go on' he said and I heard the century old chair creak beneath him. He wanted more words from me, more of my stupid, juvenile fantasy.

'Gentle. Good. True. Easy laugh. Not jaded. Happy. In love. Tender' I spat out breathlessly, wrapping the blankets tighter around me.

'What am I, Sarah?'

'Semi-evil' I whispered.

He chuckled darkly and tapped a single canine tooth with his index finger; a brief click of nail on bone muted by leather glove. A shiver drenched my spine and I turned from him. I couldn't deny to myself that I desired him. It felt sinful, though, not at all like the soft adoration I felt for boy bands and pretty, floppy-haired surfers, much heavier, much darker. I had never wanted to tie silk scarves around their wrists, for instance.

'Had enough of my stupid, teen fantasies, yet?' I asked dully.

'You fail to understand me time and time again, Sarah. Your naivety is refreshing and truly beautiful. I have had centuries to harden and lose feeling. You have had little more than a decade, and what you've done with it, the breadth of your imagination and spirit, is mesmerising to me' he said.

'Or' he amended, cocking his head, 'was mesmerising, though I can return your imagination and your spirit to you. And then we can both bask in the glow of it, hmm?'

'You hate me, don't you?' I whispered.

'Passionately' he replied, running his fingers along the chipped wood of the chair and frowning, clearly finding it not to his standards.

'So much that you'd reduce me to this shell, huh?'

'And you don't hate me?' he asked, quirking an eyebrow. 'After our charming _time_ together, I would have thought your perceptiveness would have granted you an informed profile of me'

'You didn't hurt Toby, and I defeated you; I still have that in my measly arsenal. So, no hate here' I snapped.

'Considering that you've played all available cards, I shall let you know something. I have entertained thousands of runners in my lifetime, thousands of spoilt little brats and neglectful parents running through my labyrinth, eyes like saucers. You were the first to make it past the Bog of Stench. Not because you were more resourceful, more capable at recruiting my subjects or more worthy, though I assure you, you are to me, than any other runner, but because of my affection for you and my pity for your plight. You must understand, Sarah, that although your recruiting skills worked fantastically on my subjects and your problem-solving was admirable, albeit, assumed, if it were not for said affection and pity, you would have rotted away in the catacombs of my Labyrinth two years ago. No extra inches on that pretty hair'

When I didn't answer, he continued, his eyes fixed on the reaction I would not give him.

'Every runner reaches a point in their journey where they are exhausted, near giving up, mentally preparing for the worst even if their feet keep running' he continued. 'You were an exception, but only a slight one. You will recall the oubliette you were dropped into. A place for forgetting. There are thousands of them, perhaps tens of thousands, their content has made me reluctant to count, harboured beneath my labyrinth and you landed, by _my_ mercy, into one of the very few empty ones. Sarah, you were lucky that I sent Hoggle to find you. Believe me when I say, precious, not every oubliette possesses a broom cupboard or can have light shed within it.'

So, this was his ploy now, blatant fear mongering.

'No, I trumped you fair and square, goblin king. Now, my reason for living back, please' I said determinedly, offering out my hand.

'Do not, Sarah, play me for a fool' he said,

'Oh, how could I, when you played the romantic so very well?'

You think me evil, don't you? I am evil human standards, yes. But can I be judged that way, truly?'

'You're evil by my standards. That's enough for me' I hissed out.

'Don't you want to though how I came into possession of your...boundless imagination?' he asked casually.

'How?' I replied.

He laughed as though my curiosity was an absolutely hilarious reaction and took a single step towards me, his eyes flashed in delight when I took several away.

'You left it dangling out of your shirt tails; it was always readily available for me to pluck from you at my leisure' he purred, his approach slow and very, very languid. 'It was even more available for The Labyrinth to take, she had the pleasure of your company throughout your...adventure. The difference is, whilst you were in my labyrinth, I had no such desire to steal it from you, even though you flaunted it so very languidly. When you left me, however, it went from being a facet of you I daren't touch to the ultimate bargaining tool and, when I discovered she had taken it, I was more than eager for her to turn it over to me. It's not just any ordinary, trivial bargaining tool, Sarah, but my favourite breed, one _you_, my beloved, cannot afford to lose'

'So, you nearly destroyed me, goblin king, so that you could have a few extra points on your tally?' I muttered darkly.

'Don't call me that' he said, stopping in his tracks. 'I suffer that title enough. I shouldn't suffer it from you'

'What would you have me call you? Because, frankly, I can think of more creative names' I laughed bitterly

'My name' he said. Something flashed in his eyes, something like sadness. It was quickly replaced with malice, of course, but it was hope, hope there was something more.

'Jar-eth' I muttered, testing the syllables, the image of the slipping of his mask burning into my memory. Funny how I had never attached the name to him before. Always him, always his, always he, never Jareth, never Jareth's.

'That would be the one' he responded drily.

'That was extremely childish of your glorified maze; stealing because it lost' I said.

'Don't think I was careless with it, Sarah. Everything was calculated. You were always safe. She had taken it, yes, but she had no choice but to turn it over to her king. Her king would not abuse it.'

'That makes everything okay, then, right? The experiment in how miserable you could make me was a controlled one'

He wiggled his nose and I gaped, resisting the urge to return it. How could _his _nose _wriggle_?

'Can't you just give it to me?' I shot out childishly.

'Not even if I tried. The labyrinth adheres to its own moral code. Even if I wanted to hand it to you, like the noble king I sure I am, deep, deep down, she would never allow it' he drawled.

Outside, rain began to fall in a soft drone, patting against my window and for a moment I gazed up at him, surprised by how dark it had become since the lilac sky of his arrival and impressed that I no longer had to gaze too far to meet his eyes, that those two years had given me the necessary inches to feel less intimidated. But as far as feeling sexually and emotionally intimidated? I felt like a shipwreck. His grin was slow, agonising, I suspected he was surprised I had had the gall to face him. The last time he had stood in this room, I had cowered before him. He was frightening.

'I want you to make me an offer. If my labyrinth taught you anything, Sarah, which, I pray, it has, you'll know that there is...how is it said? No such thing as a free lunch. If you want your imagination back, you will have to grant me something in return that is of equal or greater value'

My heart dropped.

'What do I have that you could possibly want?' I laughed, gesturing around my messy room extravagantly, panic in my voice. He only grinned, sharp teeth glinting in the soft glow of my bedroom lighting.

'Would you have me put it simply, or shall I spin you a tale?' he asked.

He tucked an errant hair behind my ear, careful not to touch my skin.

'No tales. I'm beyond enjoying them' I muttered, turning my head away from the caress.

'If I tuck your imagination back into your shirttails, I want a grip on those tails in return'

'Come again?' I whispered.

'I'm assuming that was a request for me to repeat myself? How about me phrasing it in an old, familiar way, hmm? Just let me rule you and you can have everything you want'

I closed my eyes, relishing his silence as lightening lit up the room. It was as it was when we first met, when all this began, a lightning storm, a girl with a dream and a man with all the dreams in the world at his disposal. Such an old game, so why couldn't I remember how to play it? Why couldn't I remember the two words to expel him.

'Do you know how happy I was?' I said, my voice thick with unshed tears. ' We were going to go to Europe next fall, dad was going to buy a camera, I was going to try real Parisian ice cream, Karen and I were going to go on a girly shopping trip...Oxford Street. I was going to be a journalist, an artist, a dolphin trainer, an explorer. Funny how little you can achieve without an imagination'

'I made you an offer, Sarah...' he began, raising his palms as though to ward of my misery.

'I'll make you one' I hissed. 'You keep them safe, you make sure nothing hurts them and you...you...protect them. I know you've got the power to do so. You make them forget me. Do you understand? Richard Williams met a beautiful, flighty woman, destined to be an actress, who did not want children. He left her and met a homely, wonderful woman named Karen, who would give him the son he dreamed of. No moody Sarah, no kind Sarah, no doting sister Sarah. If you take me, you take me completely'

I was expecting a reaction from him, perhaps a flash of anger. He only regarded me coolly. Upon his palm he conjured one of his infamous crystals and ran it across his fingers, his mouth pulled into a smile that would be delicious if it were not so evil.

'Do you understand the implications of such a deal, Sarah?' he mused, tossing the orb into the air and catching it on two, long fingers.

I looked away from him, my eyes trailing along my bedroom walls, along picture after picture of family, friends, places. A particularly treasured photo of Toby at his first school play, dressed as a paper Marché tree, his mouth, or 'chops' as I fondly called it, covered in chocolate. A painting from a friend, Sherlock Holmes, complete with pipe, wishing me a 'happy and deductive new psychology course', a fridge magnet- 'Friar's Falls', a sliver of confetti collected from my first prom, taped above a concert ticket. All gone, and I had never taken a moment to appreciate any of it. Tears fell freely from my eyes and I grit my teeth. I knew the implications, but to feel joy, to not have to act my way through every second of my life, to not want to cry every time I saw someone laugh and, above all, the assurance Toby would grow up and be happy, without a sister on Prozac, without a sister who left the world, I felt were worth them.

'You can never return here, Sarah, everything you've touched, everywhere you have been, every scenario you have influenced, everyone who has loved you, loathed you, even seen you briefly, will no longer carry your trace. You shall belong nowhere, kept only in existence by my mercy and easily removed by my whim' he said, but his voice was background music. I barely noticed his words.

I wondered if he was enjoying this, how much this satisfied his lust for revenge, whether it would only begin to cover it. We watched each other silently, my frenzied breath the only sound between us. He hadn't aged a day, not a second since I last saw him. It would perhaps be romantic or tragic to claim he looked tortured or somehow affected, as though my absence had taken some sort of toll on him, but the lines of his face were the same, drawn by some past trauma, unaffected. It felt irrelevant now. All of it. Life, love, happiness. What was it when I would never see Toby grow up, never secretly disapprove of his friends, never challenge his girlfriends or sit from a corner, watching him receive the 'Birds and the Bees' talk? The entire world seemed to crumble beneath me. I had cried when I had been dismissed from college for 'whimsicality and an inability to focus, I had spent nights upon nights, wailing at the loss of my beloved Underground and its inhabitants and I had even required the use of a box of tissues over my father's announcement that I was 'eighteen now, and shouldn't have so many stuffed toys' and the subsequent bags he filled with them for the tip. But this was a different breed of despair, an aching kind.

Every time I had cried over these meaningless, trivial things, Toby had climbed onto my lap, placed a sticky hand on my cheek and begged for a story so wonderful, so poignant that I couldn't help but cease my misery to entertain him. Where was that now?

Never would I laugh at a friend's joke, never fall in gentle, loyal love with the science major, never marry him, never live the life I had wanted to live so desperately. But could I have done that, anyway, with the wreckage I had been left with, with the person I had become?

'Precious Sarah' he interrupted my thoughts, his voice surprisingly strained. 'Yield to my curiosity. Confess your sin'

'...my sin?' I choked out.

'What are you most guilty of? What did you do to me, this, fine, prince Charming, what did you do to the labyrinth you ran?' he cooed.

I blinked away tears and stared at my fingers, aware of his approach only from rattle of the floorboards. And then his breath against my ear.

'The Labyrinth welcomes back its conqueror'

* * *

**This is what I did instead of writing my English coursework , I don't think I'm doing H.G Wells proud through gleefully ignoring his work and instead writing what is essentially an online novella of Bowie-porn. Why does Sarah not sound like Sarah? Is it because the author is incapable of writing Sarah or because of something else? Find out next time?**

**Chapter two (much longer this time round) will be on your screens...soon? If you like, please review. I'm hoping my breed of stuff to come is your cup of green tea. **

**Thank you so much for reading.**


	2. Different and Humbling

Disclaimer: **Labyrinth is not mine. **

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favourited and alerted the first chapter!

And, if you're like me and preparing for your A-levels, good luck!

Desperately seeking a Beta reader... but too socially anxious to contact one. Haha.

* * *

Two years later a girl stands, shaking with anticipation as she utters the words he now loathes, lips painted a dramatic red. And he arrives. He makes no movement to her, nor does he speak. His clothing is simple, unintimidating. His eyes tired. He has done this before. It is she who is dressed up, her green eyes framed with makeup not dissimilar to his own,. A month has changed Sarah. She takes a step towards him, crossing the line he reviled and she appreciated, her smile sad. 'You're the Goblin King' she declares. This is no question. He cocks his head to one side and smiles at the 'ignorant, foolish, unremarkable human girl' with all the power in the world. He doubted she would ever call him by name.

* * *

'Can't I say goodbye?' I whispered.

I went to move away but his hands gripped at my shoulder blades, stilling me and holding me at arm's length, his grip gentle but firm. I stared at my feet, finding myself enjoying the contact far too much, when was the last time someone had held me, even at this painful distance?

I leant my head into his chest, relishing the feel of leathers and silk against my wet lashes. Perhaps this was enough, just having him silent, passive, whilst I laid claim to him, laid claim to the care I was unsure he was willing to give. His breath caught and I looked up at him sharply, pulling away, suddenly frightened to see rejection in his eyes. They met mine unblinkingly. There was no mocking, slyness or anger in them...only understanding. The great, powerful, frightening king of the Goblin folk looked down at me with nothing in his eyes but complete and utter sympathy. I stepped back swiftly, feeling my cheeks redden.

'Please. I just want a closure of sorts; even if it's only _my_ heart I'm closing...I want to leave a trace of myself...something Toby can remember' I whispered, wringing my hands.

'Perhaps Toby will, Sarah, remember you' he said. 'Contrary to popular belief, the world is not a linear place, it adheres to only a basic timeline, and the rest is mental interpretation. Reality, at least your reality, is an absolute illusion. It may be a romantic notion to believe that, even though to him you do not exist, he will one day sketch your likeness in the sand on a beach holiday, or dream about a kindly, dark-haired lady, living on a Marzipan cloud or even see a dress you would have loved and feel a pang of something bitter yet sweet that he cannot place, but it is a possible notion'

'Possible is good...' I responded.

He reached over, as though to wipe away my tears, but stopped inches from my face, his fingers poised to touch.

'Are you frightened, Sarah?' he asked

'Of course I am' I whispered.

He sighed deeply and his fingers stroked the tears from my cheek, circling under my chin and tilting it up to meet his gaze.

'As long as you should stay by my side, no such thing as pain or sorrow shall touch you' he soothed, his mismatched eyes half-lidded.

'No such thing...' I repeated slowly.

'No such'

'What, then, shall touch me?' I asked.

'Whatever I deem should. But know this, it shall not harm the person you are or the shell you occupy, Sarah. It shall be pure, distilled, calculated. What you feel, what you see, shall be a product of my own wishes for you, and they are anything but dark'

'Without dark...there is no light. You can't take pain away, not my pain. It's not trivial, I am genuinely, genuinely hurt. No one has been able to reach me for months!'

'Did I claim that I could? The whole world is darkness, Sarah, yours and mine. You will return with me and you will feel it, probing at the Labyrinth's walls, whispering in the nightmares that slip through the cracks in our invented joy, snaking doubt within you. It lives around us, with us, within us'

'But you are darkness...the book says..."No one could remember a time without The Goblin King. Forever he had sat on his gilded throne, surveying the creatures that made mischief at his feet and forever he would stay, darkness personified."' I declared.

His eyes widened a fraction and he stilled, his jaw clenched. If ever he had doubted my dedication to his fantasy, his reunion with me had proved him utterly wrong.

'Oh, to be defined by a book...How right you are, Sarah, my love' he laughed darkly, clearly retrieving his thoughts and running a hand through his hair. 'Millennia after millennia of stealing children, tricking, hating and killing and you think I doubt my own darkness, doubt there would be celebrations were I to die? There are those that yearn for my death, those who attempt to commission it, those who want my blood on their palms merely to _satisfy_'

'And yet you think you can keep me safe from evil, when you know you are evil, yourself...' I replied.

For a moment, I thought he would shout, but his jaw unclenched and he laughed lightly.

'You see the world very much in black and white, Sarah' he said, his smile sad 'it is your appeal as a heroine and compliment to your nature. You understand evil; you _condemn _evil because you are so, innocently, beautifully and inherently good. You do not, however, understand that with my evil comes my power, my power to spin dreams, weave illusion, and to possess dominion over the Labyrinth, a structure once considered too wild and too unpredictable to control'

'I have the power to stop time' he continued, 'to reverse it, distort it...give it or take it away. If I had wanted to, Sarah, if my evil was as fine-tuned and practiced as you assume, I would have frozen time, all those years ago when you stood before me, poised to remove my power over you, and kept you still, a statue for all of eternity, your lips parted to declare my undoing. But I didn't...I let you go home. I was always to return for you, darkness, as you said so poetically, cannot survive without light, but I gave you freedom, even if it was only temporary'

''You...consider me naive, don't you?' I spat out. 'You think that I cannot decide whom to trust. Your labyrinth sought to teach me that the world was a harsh place, but there were those who I could love, those I could trust to help me through it, but ultimately it was my labyrinth, my life, my challenge to complete. I trust you, I always have, I trust you of my own accord. Even when you held my little brother away from me and dropped me into your elaborate puzzle, I trusted you to do him no harm and to protect me' I shouted.

'What made you trust?' he said after a long moment.

'The book, actually' I said breathlessly, clenching my fists. 'Three lines of it, really...in comparison to the rest of the story, it's quite an insignificant paragraph. It's a part you'd miss if you were to hurry to get to the good bits'

'You based your trust of an omnipotent, glittery, baby-snatching villain on the book he planted to lure you under his power?' he said dryly.

He looked restless standing there, as though he wished to pace, but thought it would've been too rude. I wondered if it would strike him as strange if I was to give him permission to do so.

'Gosh' I said. 'I can't believe I still remember it- 'It had taken him years to perfect and nurture his Labyrinth. She was always perfect in his eyes, always perfectly tailored to his needs, but he wanted to create both the ultimate, strategic trap and a beautiful home for its citizens, to satisfy himself and those who chose to live under him. The creatures of the Labyrinth rejoiced under the reign of their sovereign, for while he may be cruel, his judgement was fair and his heart, whilst dark, was hollow to be filled'

'Hollow to be filled...' he murmured.

'Yes...you know... that thing really was wordy. I couldn't read it until I was fifteen, simply because 'strategic' wasn't in the Read With Me Under Ten guidebook...' I said laughingly.

It was only then that I realised he had returned to the rocking chair and was sitting, his eyes fixed on the window. For a while he sat in silence, rocking slightly and watching the trees sway in the night wind, his legs propped up on the windowsill.

'Do you know how many nights I spent out there, not out by the window, of course, I had no right to see into you, but on that branch...watching you close your curtains, flying away when you forgot?' he said, his voice strained.

'A few, I'd imagine. I saw you out there a several times; I introduced you to Toby as my Guardian Barn Owl' I said, smiling at the memory of assuring Toby the bird wouldn't hurt him and then spending hours, trawling through father's wildlife books to draw the bird that had so swiftly flown away.

I saw the owl frequently, most often at the corner of my eye, often waved to it as I crossed the road to my house and had even planned to bring it cooked chicken, the night it had turned into a Goblin King.

'Guardian, indeed...Barn Owl, how about Magical Fae King?' he responded.

'Tried it. Wasn't overly impressed' I said lightly.

He smiled weakly and roved his hands along the wood of the chair.

'I found you by accident, you know' he said softly. 'You were playing outside, a few months before I took Toby, dancing in a fraying, lilac dress, your hair a mass of twigs and leaves and your knees muddied. I was captivated by you, by your imagination, your smile...how you dictated so vibrantly a story of witches scorned, knights brave and maidens won. You lit up when you spoke of things you loved. You were only in your late childhood, yet you spoke with the eagerness of a woman of many years, yearning to have someone to share with, someone who would listen. I tried to be content with merely watching you, Sarah. It didn't take me long to realise I never would'

'Goblin King...' I began.

'Jareth' he said simply, meeting my nervous gaze.

'This whole thing, The Labyrinth, you, Toby...I never really had a choice, did I?'

He looked away, his smile sad. 'My kind does not love lightly, nor is our affection fickle, changeable or retractable...no, you never had a choice. I had too much power and you too little...Please, sit down, Sarah. I am not enjoying your advantage of height'

I sat down on the bed, threading my fingers through the holes in my throw over, watching him watch me.

'Tell me something' I said, impulsively, suddenly hungering for his words. He was the only concrete thing in my world at that very moment. I wanted to know all of him. His dreams, his heart, the breadth of his cunning, the cracks in his reservation, how soft his lips would feel against mine. Stupid, lusty things, also, the things that came with two years lived. But what was clanging through his mind at that very moment, dominion, possession, hatred, bloodlust? What of it was salvageable, what of it could I soothe?

'What is it that you would like to know?' he asked, smiling indulgently, a mocking glint in his eyes.

'How you became king...tell me that' I said.

'You know the tale as much as I do, Sarah, perhaps more, you have cause to love it better' he muttered, running his fingers along his leg, as though expelling invisible dust.

'I only know the 'forever he had sat' part. It was one of my favourite passages. I read it over and over again until I had it memorised. It was my first introduction to the concept of 'forever'. It used to frighten me so much, more than the Fierys or the tunnel of hands, or even the final confrontation, when everything was uncertain, everything the product of the right or wrong words. They were frightening, yes, but no where near as much as the concept of eternity...I remember asking my father to explain it to me, the word 'forever', he told me it was a stupid word...'

'True' he muttered. 'The Labyrinth, Sarah, is not, as many expect, insentient'

'And neither' he said 'does it select its king or have its governing dictated by a single family of which I am the most recent heir. The labyrinth is coincidence. One day it simply appeared on an expanse of land so irrelevant, its original name has been lost to time itself. Every creature from every land gathered to see it, to marvel at the fact that it 'wasn't here yesterday, but is today'. Parades were held in its honour, many a themed brunch had its prize meat carved into it The Labyrinth's alien runes and its pattern became fashionable on woman's dresses and wedding invites' he said softly, his eyes flashing with amusement when he noticed my rapt attention. 'Songs were written of its mysterious expanse and many tried to break into its pathways and make love against its stone walls for it was rumoured to provoke fertility. One of the many things fey courts delight in is curiosity, and the arrival of the Labyrinth provoked so much than you'd scarcely believe half of them, so short of height and thin of width, could contain it. But behind the appreciation of its novelty, lay a deep-set, instinctive fear. You see, although the races of Underground are accustomed to magic, they cannot comprehend something with no magically structured beginning or end and no definite creator or destiny. Hmm, it's the equivalent of, say, a legless chair to you, Sarah' he said, his sudden address of me made me jump. 'You understand it is a chair, but cannot possibly understand its usage without something to back it up under your weight'

I furrowed my brow at him and he smiled.

'Despite this suspicion, fundamentally, as far as the creatures of Underground were concerned, its curiosities and even its aura of danger were trivial in comparison to the castle at its centre and its need of a king' he continued. 'When the world was young, the workings of the five monarchies were considerably more 'fun', wars were fought half in jest and women and goods were traded with joy and blessing. Everything thrived under the kings of old and so the games held to determine its ruler were, although deadly serious, absolutely peaceful, boring even, in comparison to the bloodbaths of this age. But as I said, the Labyrinth has feeling, see even the lowliest of cottages creep with life in Underground, with their own motives, with memories that render them interchangeably evil and benevolent and so The Labyrinth's...potent...sentience left the crowds puzzled. It all but breathed. It knew the languages of old and new, it had morals, trusted some to pass its walls untouched, but would constrict and crush others for seemingly no reason at all. How was the young man who had won the trials and was to ascend its throne to conquer it? How could he ask the Labyrinth's blessing of his kinghood when it remained arrogant, mute in his presence? It still amazes me, even to this day, that none of them considered that perhaps it was not intended be ruled...So my existence is therefore a surprise, a blessing or a curse, depending entirely on the height and odour of the creature you ask. You quoted from the book, did you not, that 'no one could remember a time without The Goblin King' and there is a lot of a truth in that. What frightens me most about myself, Sarah is that I, like The Labyrinth, have neither a beginning nor an end. I simply woke up one day filled with blind loathing, knowing choking, elaborate memories of myself as the monarch of a complex stretch of land and a gaggle of blithering, miniature idiots. I awoke knowing that I was the hated king of a hated race, with no memory of my misdoings, no memory of why I should be so very much detested. I have never known anything but myself, over and over again for all of time, and there is no destiny in that'

'Everyone has a destiny; I refuse to believe that this is _it _for you...'

'I am a trapped, manufactured being, created for a _purpose. _This _is_ it for me...my life was never and will never be my own' he spat out.

He stood up, so swiftly it was as though he had transported and I jumped back in surprise, knocking over my quilted lamp and landing headfirst amongst my blankets. I risked a glance at him, suddenly frightened of his reaction, but his eyes betrayed nothing as the lamp fell to the floor, distinguishing the only light in the room. In the blackness, he rose a hand, twisting it and conjuring a crystal on his palm, bringing a lilac light to his chest and lending my belongings long, sinister shadows. I let out a gasped breath I hadn't known I had been holding.

'I wonder if Prince Charming ever frightened his delicate, milk and honey love so?' he mused, placing the orb on the table with a gentle clunk, spotlighting us both in gentle illumination.

'He might well have done' I replied breathlessly, watching the swirl and storm of violet cloud within the orb.

'You're bleeding' he said simply, gesturing to my wrist with an incline of his head.

I stared down at it in dazed wonder, suddenly associating the sharp pain in my wrist with the trickle of blood trailing from my fingers. I watched, morbidly fascinated as it dripped down to splatter my teddy bear pyjamas, making the jovial bears and their picnic baskets look positively horrifying.

'May I?' he asked, raising one gloved finger.

I nodded once and he approached swiftly, kneeling down beside the bed to take my hand in his. I watched his face, the concentration that seemed to bloom there as he grasped my shaking hand, holding it as though it were a frightened creature he daren't scare away. His eyes flickered over the wound, assessing it, and my heart jumped, partly from shock and partly from elation. I wanted to feel his skin, I wanted to ask him to take his gloves off. I wondered, vaguely, if these thoughts were appropriate, if these thoughts were ones he would obey, if he would obey any of my thoughts. If there was ever a beauty marred by hate, it was his. No, he wasn't classically beautiful, or conventionally beautiful or even, most likely, generally beautiful, but there was something about him that made him lovelier than any man I had ever seen.

He wasn't my prince charming, not my dastardly villain, not even the trickster who reformed his ways after my gentle touch. He was not a character, he was a man, a man with fears and dreams and words and worlds. I wish I'd known that all along. I wish I had known that he was frightened and lonely and trapped and was lashing out on the world that had called him Goblin King against his will and built him a labyrinth he never wanted to govern. I wish I could tell him that. Numbly, I registered him turn my wrist over and hover his fingers over the wound, running a crimson path through the blood and trailing it further down my wrist to my forearm, as though he was fingerpainting. Shivers flooded up my body at the contact, the slow twirl of smooth leather on the sensitive skin of my wrist. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the shapes he made, boxes, swirls, triangles, simple things, but the touch on my skin was maddening.

'I must have caught it on something as I fell. It doesn't really hurt' I said, my throat dry, clenching my fist against the sensation.

'It's a clean cut, nothing jagged could have been responsible' he remarked, a hint of breathlessness in his voice.

I watched, fascinated as the wound knitted up under his fingertips, the skin restored to new. The soft glow of the magic left me feeling warm, dizzy even and I wiggled my fingers in pleasure at the new sensation, hardly noticing when he returned my hand to my lap with a gentle caress.

'It tickles' I remarked.

'That surprises me not. Normally, healing magic is a swift thing, done in the heat of battle and often more painful than the wound itself. I wove in a great deal of pleasure magic to counteract the natural pain' he said, standing back up, straightening his back and returning to the window.

'You made me jump back then...it was the first time I've ever seen you truly angry'...I'm sorry I reacted that way' I said

'Don't apologise' he said dismissively, raising a hand as though to bat away my confession.

'I painted you as my villain...'

'Don't mistake pity for truth, Sarah. It is the part I have always played with relish'

'...how long have you been alive for?' I asked, realising the topic had not come up, but too delirious to care.

'I don't rightly know. Theoretically, millennia, but time is different in the Labyrinth, it adheres to my whims. I may have subconsciously slowed it down or sped it up'

'What's the crystal for?' I asked, noticing he had conjured a second and was rolling it across his palms, his eyes eating up my expression as I followed it with my eyes. He was going to have to teach me how to do that.

'Why, it's your imagination, Sarah, your dreams, your spirit. Did you think I would not act on my promise?' he said, a hint of sarcasm in his otherwise purring voice.

I reached out for it, preparing to close my fingers over its glass surface, suddenly ravenous for whatever it was he was offering. The magic, clearly, had not worn off.

'Wait. Close your eyes, Sarah, and take my hand' he said softly, pulling it back. 'It will ease the sensation of displacement. Travelling between realms is not disorientating, per say, but the Labyrinth is unaccustomed to admitting you without her prior approval, there may be initial resistance and, like a wounded, confused creature, her resistance may be quite frightening.

I held out my hand and he hovered his fingers above it for a second before clasping it. I watched as he brought the crystal to my eye level, so I could see clearly the scenes swirling within it: the two of us dancing, silk dresses and wine, his arms fastened around me, a song I could not hear but could imagine perfectly. I wondered if this was his memory or mine, I didn't, for instance, recall us dancing alone, or my dress being quite so extravagant.

In awkward movements, as though it had been suspended on string, the crystal dropped to the floor, dissolving into tens of rainbow-flecked bubbles that flitted and danced between us. They kissed at my cheek, fastened around my waist and curled around my ear as I stared, mesmerised at my flustered appearance within them, reaching to touch them and startling when they darted away.

'Have I already said, Sarah, that the Labyrinth welcomes back its conqueror?' I heard him whisper as one, particularly daring bubble rested at the hollow of my throat.

I turned to him, laughing at the tickling sensation and batting it away.

'You may have done' I replied, wiggling my nose in delight as yet another bubble laid claim to it.

The king of the goblins watched me, his eyes half-lidded and his smile achingly, beautifully genuine.

'As does her king'.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading!

This was originally going to be belong story, but there just wasn't the interest. I felt stupid submitting a chapters 4,5 and 6 to no reviews! so, it's just going to be left as a two-shot!


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